


The Tarot of Talon

by Sheebatroid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25873036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheebatroid/pseuds/Sheebatroid
Summary: A slowburn Spiderbyte inspired by the 22 major arcana. A spiral of angst, fluff, spice and everything in between.When Sombra spots a crack in Widowmaker's shell, will she be prepared for the woman inside?Tags will be updated as chapters are uploaded. :3
Relationships: Sombra | Olivia Colomar/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go gaymers >:)

“On your left!” 

Sombra’s urgent warning shook Reaper from his brooding. He and Widowmaker were positioned on the peak of what they believed to be a recently active - assumed abandoned - Overwatch base. Their escape ship was already en route, and it was up to Sombra to retrieve what Doomfist had described as 'priceless data'.  


Before the crackle of her comms had even passed, the duel shotguns were drawn from their holsters and aimed to his flank. Widowmaker’s rifle cocked somewhere behind him, but as the two took aim they were met with nothing but a lazy, clouded sky. Reaper sucked in a breath through his teeth, expectant for some cocky Overwatch agent to round the corner. Perhaps that plucky Brit, or - god forbid - the monkey. Sorry, _scientist_.

A few long moments of silence passed before he dared to speak again.

“...Sombra?” He murmured, guns still drawn.

“Nice view, don’cha think?” Sombra replied innocently, but an aura of smugness practically radiated through the comms.

“.... _Sombra._ ” Tension was already creeping into his shoulders. He could picture her smirk, unphased by his warning.  
Sombra’s delighted cackle came over the comms as if on cue, and he exchanged a bitter glance with Widowmaker as she relaxed her aim. 

“I’d hate for you to miss such a view, Gabe. I’m loving mine.” Sombra piped up again, and at once he shot a glare over at the adjacent rooftop. 

Sombra beamed back at them, settled comfortably on the edge surrounded by screens of bright, purple light. She tapped frantically across them, weaselling past the firewall so that they could initiate the next phase of infiltration. 

“We don’t have time for this, Sombra.” Reaper’s warning, again, was met with nothing but a shrug and a toothy smile.

“You already took out those guys I spotted on the way in.” She hummed, biting back a grin as Reaper was visibly set on edge. There were most certainly no Overwatch agents on the way in, and Reaper had not seen a single soul since they arrived.

“The what?!” He snapped, both hands already in his jacket to draw weapon again- 

“Or was that our _last_ attempt…” Sombra cooed, drumming her nails against her cheek as Reaper nearly threw his shotguns across the roof in frustration. “Silly me.” 

Reaper shoved his shotguns back into their holders, his clawed hands near tweaking with unspent adrenaline.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” His tone bristled into a snarl, watching Sombra kick her feet up and lean back playfully.

“It’s so boring up here... I’m just having a little fun, Gabe!”

“There is no room for fun. Stop calling me that.”

“No room for fun?” Sombra echoed back, cocking a brow. “Then why are you cosplaying?”

Reaper sucked in an offended breath, but Widowmaker’s sharp voice cut through the tension first.

“It would be a shame if something were to happen to you on our next mission.” Her golden gaze burned back into Sombra’s playful stare, impassive. “A real pity.”

Sombra’s body tingled at the ice in Widowmaker’s words, but maintained her grin all the same. It was always an easy win poking fun at Reaper, but Widowmaker was an uncracked case; she still wasn’t certain if Widowmaker was even capable of laughter, and if she was, what a powerful bragging right it would be to cause it. To think, she could bear the champion title of 'I made Talon's untouchable, most prized super-weapon giggle at a knock-knock joke'... But for now, holding those steady golden eyes was giving her the shivers. There was something so predatory and _exciting_ about it that Sombra could barely tear her gaze away in time to look non-chalant. 

“ _Relajarse,_ ” She insisted, waving it off with one hand and swinging her gun haphazardly in the process. 

Widowmaker’s crosshair passed over her face, and for a moment, debated shooting beside her foot as a warning.  
“Stop waving that thing around. It’s not a toy. You’ll hurt yourself.” 

Sombra gave an exasperated sigh of defeat, tucking it back into the holster and used her free hand to swipe open another set of screens. She leant back to cross one leg over the other.  
“Aww, worried about me?” She purred, steeling against the sniper’s hardening gaze with a wink and rested her chin into her palm, “I always knew you cared, my _favourite_ spider.”

Widowmaker stiffened to retort, but was cut off with a raise of Reaper’s hand.  
“Could you, perhaps, get through that damn firewall instead of flirting?” His patience was wearing thin, and Sombra flashed her trademark toothy grin back in response.

“You really don’t know me well, do you? I finished ten minutes ago.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once Sombra was cloaked and far within the base’s walls, Widowmaker spoke.

“It’s going to be Volskaya all over again.” The grip on her rifle tightened, recalling watching Sombra dance around Katya’s office as though it were all a game. Reaper had been the one to convince her that Doomfist didn’t need to know about it, but it had been a no-questions-asked kind of exchange and Widowmaker was still unsatisfied with his answer. “She sabotaged us once. Why wouldn’t she do it again?” 

There was a long pause before Reaper sighed, resting a clawed hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off without hesitation, putting some distance between them to stare expectantly for his excuse to keep her around this time.

“We need her.” He replied, reluctant, and drew his hand back sheepishly. “And she needs us. She likes to talk like she's untouchable, but Talon is safety for someone like her. She wouldn’t risk putting herself on Akande’s hit list. Especially not when he has all the contacts she could ever need for... whatever it is she does in her own time.”  
He tapped his foot impatiently. Usually Sombra would chatter nonsense over the comms, but now she was eerily quiet. Perhaps she was finally paying attention.  
“She knows she can only push her luck so far before she gets caught by someone not so willing to look away.”

The frustrated crease in Widowmaker’s eyes betrayed her flat expression.  
"And why are you so willing to look away?" She took a step closer, setting Reaper on edge. "What has she ever done to earn your loyalty?" 

Reaper sighed again, guttural and tired. There was too much, too many layers to his excuses, and excuses he wasn't sure how to explain to someone that didn't know how to _feel_.  


"It's complicated." He answered simply, resigning that Widowmaker would simply have to leave unsatisfied. How was he to explain about Los Muertos, and the state it left those orphaned children - how Sombra had ended up in need of their protection for her work? How, in the most irritating and infuriating way, she was like the daughter he never asked for.  


“I could shoot her.” Widowmaker uttered simply, running her fingertips over the barrel of her rifle far too hungrily for Reaper’s liking. He shook his head no. 

“You could. But you shouldn’t.” There was a smile in his voice now. Widowmaker’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from amusement or defeat.

“Got it!” Sombra’s chirp from over their comms snapped them both from their daze, and they exchanged satisfied hums for the first time that night. Of course Sombra was untrustworthy... but she was efficient.

“Hmph.” Widowmaker huffed, staring absently ahead. The threat had been real, but oddly enough she couldn’t envision herself actually shooting the woman. At least she had been obedient this time. Surely that was why. Surely. “Perhaps I shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what?” Sombra’s voice was suddenly very present, uncloaking between them like a smug little chameleon. “Don’t tell me you were making plans without me.”

Reaper swallowed thickly. How long had she been there? How much had she heard?  
“Where is it?” He pressed, urgent. “That monkey will catch on quickly. I don't need his filthy paws on me again any time soon.”

Sombra waved the USB in front of his face like a toy to a kitten, and he snatched it eagerly between his claws. “See? Right on time, just like I promised. You gotta learn to relax, Gabe.”

“This time.” Reaper mumbled, stuffing the USB into his jacket as the whirr of their escape ship began its approach. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”


	2. The Magician

Sombra would never understand why they had to be up at the crack of dawn.  
It was a rare treat to sleep past 7am whenever they were all on base together - as per Doomfist’s request. Something about having to set an example as the strongest of the human race… or some nonsense of the sort. She just wanted a lie-in for once.

The only saving grace of the morning was catching the smell of something already baking in the kitchen… something good. And that could only mean one thing.

“French breakfast?” Sombra cooed as she peered into the kitchen, her suspicions confirmed as Widowmaker barely glanced over her shoulder to greet her. “Ooh Spider, you _spoil_ us.”

Widowmaker gave a soft hum of acknowledgement, seemingly pleased with the praise as far as Sombra could tell, and so she sauntered over to take her place at the table - the last to arrive, as per usual.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t be joining us.” Doomfist raised a brow, learning forwards in his chair. “Late night?”

Sombra gave him a shrug, trying her best to stifle a yawn.  
“Always! I have a lot of work to do.” Of course she would never admit to having made her own copy of the data they’d stolen the day before, but she had spent all night carefully combing through it for anything she could use. It had mostly been nothing new - locations of Overwatch agents she already knew, a few scraps of personal details she could probably get some blackmail out of, the usual… but a few had caught her attention.

First, Angela Ziegler. Mercy.  
It was no secret that Talon’s resident medic - Moira, who happened to be seated right beside Doomfist - was uneasy to be around even on a good day. If she could tap into what Angela had to offer, perhaps they could live without Moira’s hellscape of orbs and tubes.

Secondly, Gabriel Reyes…. Their resident Reaper.  
Sombra already knew him like the back of her hand, but it had been very interesting learning about the real tension before him and Jack Morrison. The tension he refused to acknowledge.

Lastly, and perhaps most important to her… Amélie Lacroix. Widowmaker.  
Her favourite spider.  
It was easy to get a hold of the late Gerard Lacroix’s records, but Amélie seemed to have been wiped from the Earth after being…. _‘Recruited’_ to Talon. She had spent the night curiously trawling through every detail, every ballet performance, every vineyard she had checked into. Surely there was something here to give her a glimpse into her past and the fragmented memories that Talon had stolen from her.  
It was for curiosity’s sake.  
Widowmaker was an uncracked case - a challenge- and Sombra loved challenges. At least, that’s what she told herself when 4am hit and she found herself with her chin rested in her palms, 2 hours into watching Amélie’s last recorded ballet performance.  
She had seen how graceful and precise Widowmaker was in combat, but to see that elegance at its core, to see Amélie so free and… human. Was this woman still there, buried deep inside the shell that was Widowmaker?  
An unfamiliar warmth tightened in her chest. She wanted to know.  
For curiosity’s sake.

“Sombra?” 

Sombra shook herself from her daze, suddenly aware that all eyes were on her.  
Reaper, Doomfist and Sigma were all staring expectantly, but as she searched for an answer to the question she wasn’t paying attention to, Moira stole the attention of the room,

“I never understood the French,” She murmured, voice already dripping with smugness as Widowmaker visibly stiffened, “Such peculiar taste.”

“And what,” Widowmaker shot her a warning glance, “Do you mean by that?”

The rest of the table fell silent, watching the stand off. Sombra held her breath.  
Moira often tested Widowmaker’s patience to see if her ‘treatment’ was still in working order - but nothing tested the Widow’s patience quite like insulting her home and its culture that she took such pride in.

“A lot of fuss for a mediocre pastry.” Moira replied slowly, meeting Widowmaker’s cold stare with her own. “I think you’d enjoy something Irish, Lacroix.”

Sombra could see the exact moment the spark was ignited in Widowmaker’s eyes.

“Is that so?” Widowmaker half turned on her heels, voice lowered to a hiss, “Then I suppose it was just your cooking that made it insufferable.”

There was an audible rouse from the crowd, and Sombra made sure to give a loud ‘whoop’ in favour of Team Spider. The table exchanged glances, and it was time to pick sides.  
Doomfist sided with the scientist.  
Sombra was firmly on team spider.  
Sigma was avidly against picking sides, insisting that both cultures were worth respecting.  
Reaper, as always, was ‘not interested in games’.

Moira’s eyes lit up, though it looked more like predatory thrill than genuine excitement,

“Bold words from someone who can’t make a proper pancake.”

Widowmaker sucked in an offended breath through her teeth, the audacity to compare her crepes to the abomination of-  
Sombra could see her slipping, and piped up quickly from the table with a wicked grin,

“You can’t talk about the french when you drink wine from a box!”

Moira’s expression tightened with embarrassment as the table murmured with laughter.

Widowmaker blinked, her sour expression easing into what almost looked like amusement. When she met Sombra’s gaze, it was not unkind.  
Warmth flourished in Sombra’s chest like she’d just been cast under a spell.

That was...new.

She hadn’t intended for her jab to be the finishing blow, but the banter quickly died down as they returned to business. Sombra didn’t often listen to the morning chatter, but she especially didn’t pay attention today.

Widowmaker had opted to sit next to her, and it had not gone unnoticed that Sombra had been given a little more than usual.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Widowmaker was the last to finish. She liked to take her time and enjoy what she’d spent the morning working on, rather than inhale it like the certain little hacker beside her.

Sombra had finished first, usually to scuttle off and do whatever it was she did, but today it was just the pair of them left in the kitchen by the end of it all.

“Thank you.” Widowmaker said quietly, as though she were afraid of being overheard.  
Just the other day she had debated shooting Sombra in the foot, and now she owed her morning’s pride to her. An unpleasant sensation coiled in her chest.

Sombra blinked. Did she hear that right? She didn’t have time to think about it.

“She had it coming.” Sombra waved it off, swiping open a screen of purple light. “I’d take your cooking over hers any day. Besides,” she cast Widow a smirk, “As soon as I’m awake early enough to get here first, you’re all stuck with mine instead. I’ll show you _real_ taste.”

Widow scoffed, incredulous.  
“I thought you lived off cereal with little marshmallows in it.”

Sombra crinkled her nose, kicking her feet up on the table now that Reaper wasn’t around to chastise her.  
“Good Mexican food would blow your mind, Spider. You can trust me… I don’t drink wine from a box.”

Widowmaker scoffed again, but this time it wasn’t unkind.  
Perhaps Sombra wasn’t irritating all the time. At least there was someone else in this base with taste.  
...She was quite nice to look at, too.  
Most of talon was made up of faceless grunts or ridiculous costumes, none of which caught her eye. It was quite honestly dreadfully boring when they were on missions. But Sombra, with her mischievous grin and perfectly executed trouble making, made things almost interesting.  
Perhaps, she thought, Sombra wasn’t so much annoying as she was just… out of the ordinary. An acquired taste?

“I’ll believe it when I taste it.” She met Sombra’s eye again, lips quirked in what was probably the closest to a smile Sombra had ever gotten out of her. “Sleep better tonight. I’ll be expecting you in the morning.”


End file.
